


No More 3x5's

by psychotraumatic



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, gyuhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotraumatic/pseuds/psychotraumatic
Summary: Yoon Jeonghan spent more than half of his life chasing after the perfect photograph, not realizing he's already taken several in a stack of 3x5's.





	No More 3x5's

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by John Mayer's 3x5
> 
> I made a playlist of songs that drove me to write this. It'll probably take you less time to finish reading that listening to all of it. But if you need mood music, feel free to give it a listen [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/iye3s7ut5881hol9hwusn05gp/playlist/1RjjoVM7bgnnkPTiCHSCwH).

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"  
  
The answer comes in the form of a wistful smile and a dismissive wave, no words coming from him as he starts to walk around. His friend was courteous enough to leave it at that, allowing him to take everything in. He waits to hear the closing of the door before truly immersing himself in his surroundings.  
  
He raises a hand, lightly pressing his fingers against the wall, tracing a path he knew all too well. Frame after frame of sceneries and faces etched against his skin and buried in his memories jump out. He's heard so many accolades earlier that night. The best being how, even if it wasn't what they expect of him, it was his most poignant work yet. It was far from perfect, not the most idyllic of settings, not the most beautiful of subjects, but it boasted of the very core that made Yoon Jeonghan the best at what he does.  
  
He pauses just before he reaches a corner, knowing what waits for him at the alcove it leads to. Everyone praised him for the small gallery of photos on display, thanking him for the insight he's never allowed anyone to be privy to. With bated breath, he turns, facing the reason for everything he's ever done for himself.  
  
He stays away from the walls. He doesn't dare touch the pictures. He's too afraid to do much else but stare. If only.

* * *

  
  
His father returned home one day with a crate full of gifts. His mother had scolded her husband about unnecessary spending, only for him to laugh it off. It was all secondhand, he explained, things the previous owner practically gave away to make room for new things. He said there were several items the whole family can use, something to while away their time from the more mundane parts of their lives.  
  
Jeonghan was quick to rummage through the box as soon as his mother let out a defeated sigh. A stack of books, a handful of toys, a pile of clothes, none of which were particularly interesting. It wasn't until his then tiny hands tugged at a black strap, struggling to pull up some bulky contraption.  
  
His father chuckled at his attempts, deciding to help once he shot an annoyed expression his way. The last item in that box had Jeonghan piqued, eyes filled with wonder as his father explained what it was.  
  
_"This is a camera," he starts. "An old one. This isn't like those fancy ones that has a screen where you can instantly see pictures from. It uses film and you need to develop all the photographs you take."_  
  
"Where are you ever going to find film?" his mother asks.  
  
"Lucky for us, the owner had a box of unused rolls that he gave for free. I'm sure there are a few places in Cheongsan or Jeju that still sell them."  
  
It was then, at the ripe age of 8, that Jeonghan's love affair with photography began. His father taught him the basics of how to use the old camera. From how to take pictures to how to take care of the gadget, he made sure to pay attention to every detail. To say he was fascinated was an understatement.  
  
Growing up, his friends had always teased him for his so-called obsession. They said there were newer cameras that could instantly print photos or automatically make his pictures better.  
  
_"Instead of buying film rolls, why don't you just save money to buy a digital camera?"_  
  
Jeonghan wasn't so fond of those ideas. He liked that he can shoot photos the way he wants to. He enjoyed that hour of waiting in anxiousness of whether or not they'll come out well. He was okay in seeing if they weren't, promising to take better ones in the future.  
  
_"You've taken a picture of every inch of this island. It still looks the same to me. Why waste more film on it?"_  
  
Yeoseo was a small fishing village where everyone knew each other and their entire family tree. There were quaint houses, rock-walled streets, and numerous docks but not much else for anyone to gush about. For Jeonghan, his hometown was a boundless opportunity to capture the perfect lighting as a boat comes in, the proud smiles as fishermen come home with a big catch, the sad gazes as storms loom in the horizon. He was sure that he annoyed a bunch of people, none more than his best friend.  
  
For every roll of film that Jeonghan used, there were at least 10 pictures of Kim Mingyu. He has a photo of when they were 8 and 6 that was nothing more than a blur of motion as he chased the younger around. Another of Mingyu being taught how to put bait on a hook to catch mackerel. Tons of him preparing ingredients or cooking dinner. A few stolen shots of his profile followed by captured expressions of shock. They were everyday moments that brought him both happiness and longing. They highlighted the simplicity of life but made him question whether or not this was all there was. Jeonghan was a dreamer, and he wanted more than what Yeoseo had to give.

_“So you’re leaving?”_

_“This place doesn’t have anything to offer me.”_

_He wanted to hit himself in the head the second the words left his mouth, the other’s downtrodden look more than enough proof of the hurt he caused._

_“I didn’t mean–”_

_The words catch in his throat when Mingyu looks up, eyes welling with tears that refuse to fall. There’s a wavering smile playing at his lips, and Jeonghan wants nothing more than to kiss his sadness away._

_“I know what you mean,” the taller boy says. “It’s okay.”_

_“Gyu, I’m sorr–”_

_“No, you’re not,” he says with a dark chuckle. “You don’t have to be. Yeoseo is too small a place to hold big dreams like yours. Even I know that. Happiness needs to come first. This isn’t where you find it.”_

At 18, Jeonghan left town with his parents’ nagging voices ringing in his head. Instructions to call, eat, and do his best going in one ear and out the other. The boat captain had repeatedly called for him to board so they can go. He whispered his farewell, crestfallen that Mingyu refused to see him off.

_“Let’s say goodbye here,” the taller boy says with a shaky breath._

_“I’ll come back,” he promises. “I’ll study hard and work even harder to be the best I can be. I’ll come back for you.”_

_Mingyu shakes his head, his grin growing faker by the second. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. You’ll be successful, I know it. You’ll meet tons of new people and travel the entire world. What could ever make you come back here after that?”_

_“You fool,” Jeonghan smiles longingly. “I would have hoped you knew by now.”_

_“I know,” Mingyu whispers. “I feel the same way. But we can’t do anything about it. Not now.”_

_He heaves a shaky breath at that. “Some day, right?”_

_“One day.”_

Jeonghan burned the candle at both ends. He dove into his studies and learned as much as he could. He picked up several part-time jobs to subsidize his cost of living in Seoul. He barely had enough time to sleep between classes and work, but he made sure to call home every chance he got. 

Calls with Mingyu were few and far between, the younger boy having taken up full-time work as a farmer and fisherman in lieu of going to university. It was a thought that saddened Jeonghan, knowing that the boy was capable of so much more.

_“Some things just aren’t meant to be,” he reassures. “You have your eye for photography and I have my hands for labor. I’m happy, don’t worry. I’m earning a good amount of money and manage to help mom and dad with what we need at home. We’re good.”_

When they missed each other’s calls, Jeonghan took to writing instead. He sent photos of his campus, his friends, his jobs, and everything in between that he thought Mingyu would be interested in. The mundane later turned into the extraordinary as Jeonghan kept moving up the ladder throughout the years, sending photos of up-and-coming celebrities, famous landmarks, and faraway places.

He knew the tall boy would have loved Santorini for the pristine beaches and clear waters. Mingyu would have probably bothered him at an ungodly hour so they could watch the sunrise. Jeonghan would have agreed to get onto a boat and see how far out they had to go before they could no longer see the ocean floor.

Mingyu would have loved Peru for its lush mountains and rich culture. Jeonghan would have cursed up and down at the younger’s idea to hike up to Machu Picchu, but he would have done it to see the awe in Mingyu’s eyes as they stood in front of the ancient village.

Jeonghan wanted to take him to New York to see what a big city truly looked like. He’d snicker at how flustered Mingyu would be that he managed to score tickets to a concert and get a shout out from the band whose album jacket he shot months prior.

They would go to Paris and visit the Eiffel Tower at sunset. They’d both cringe at how cheesy it was, but Jeonghan would have fallen in love all over again at how the lights created shadows on Mingyu’s face.

_“Your photos are amazing!” the younger says excitedly. “Thank you for sharing them with me.”_

_“I wished you were there to see it,” Jeonghan replies. “I don’t think my pictures do them justice. They look better if you see them with your own eyes.”_

_“Some day, right?”_

_“One day. Soon.”_

It’s been ten years since Jeonghan left Yeoseo to chase after his dreams, but everything still looked the same, making him feel as if he was transported back in time the second he stepped off of the ferry. He was expecting the town’s chief to pop out to welcome him home, similar to how he used to when he came back from doing part-time work in Cheongsan. He was anticipating that one of the village aunts will suddenly scream of his return all the way from the vegetable garden. He even guesses that his mom will see him from right outside their kitchen window, still halfway up the hill leading to their home, and tell him to go back down to buy soy bean paste from the mart.

But there was no fanfare. Yeoseo remains as quiet as it was in his memories, perhaps even quieter and definitely more somber.

Jeonghan presses fingers against his eyelids, hoping to rub the weariness of a long trip away. There was still so much to do, and no time left to see to them. 

He makes the familiar trek up a small hill, each step getting heavier the closer he gets to his destination. He was still a little ways from the house but he can already hear the din of a crowd, dissolving into silence the second his shadow passes the door.

He swallows thickly, bowing his head to avoid the looks of pity and sympathy as he approaches the center of the room. He drops to his knees the second he sees the old couple whose bodies were weathered with sadness and grief.

The dam breaks when the woman joins him on the floor, giving him a hug in welcome and empathy. His gut-wrenching sobs echo against the walls in that same moment, his emotions finally catching up to the reality he was in.

While there are bountiful rains that bring about rainbows, there are also tumultuous storms that can take your beloved away.

* * *

 

His claim to fame is uncharacteristically simple. From the second he steps foot on any set, Yoon Jeonghan had the uncanny ability to see through every layer of a person or a scene, peeling away the complexities and capturing the rawness at the core. He’s able to photograph beauty and emotion across a spectrum, able to transform something plain to something exquisite – a skill that most can only dream about.

Jeonghan spent over half of his life hoping to catch the perfect picture, only to realize too late that he’d caught it long ago. He chooses to peel back his layers, deciding to show the world the moments that shaped who he was.

It’s in the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon, in the dewy drops caught between lettuce leaves, in the billowing smoke from a lunch fire. It’s in a child’s cheerful wish of good luck for his father’s catch, in a wife’s worried glance as dark clouds approach, in a mother’s tearful goodbye to a son she’ll never see again. 

It comes from a box of old three-by-fives he took wherever he went. His most precious possessions. His heart. He put them in his gallery as they are, some with frayed edges, others stained with tears, all yellowed through time. It was his story, his driving force, his one true love.

It was in a blur of motion he caught when he was 8 and the other was 6, the rapt attention as the younger learned to fish, the sheer concentration as the other prepared their dinner. It was in the serenity on Mingyu’s face as they sat together watching the sun set, in the blush that bloomed after Jeonghan first pressed a kiss to his lips, in the heartbreak seated in the younger’s eyes as they said their goodbyes.

At 18, Jeonghan left Yeoseo to chase after his dreams, hoping to make it big so he can give the world to everyone he cared for. At 16, Mingyu takes on as much work as he can, building his savings so he can follow his love to the ends of the earth.

At 28, Jeonghan finds himself in Yeoseo to fulfill his promise of coming back. At 26, all that’s left of Mingyu is a box of three-by-fives.


End file.
